


Withering Hearts

by mphilipak



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mphilipak/pseuds/mphilipak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas and Mathien may learn that sometimes it takes a miracle, a real miracle, to keep people together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A breath of Fresh Air

She always hated not knowing the answer. Whenever the Keeper would sit with her in the Aravels, she would would ask the Keeper questions.

 

“Keeper, will I be strong when I grow up?” She peered over the tall desk where the Keeper sat quietly, reading. Looking down towards me, her caramel eyes were warm, and a gentle smile tugged at her mouth.

 

“Only if you wish it to be, Da'len.” She would chuckle then, glancing back towards her parchment. Mathien would pout then, sitting down next to the Keeper's feet, crisscrossing her arms firmly.

 

Now, however, she laughed at the ignorance of her youth, though she didn't much enjoy being left in the dark. The laughter hit her in small, fleeting bits, but she enjoyed them never the less. She glanced around hurriedly. Where was it? She had worn it yesterday, just as she had worn it every day since the Keeper gave it to her. Mathien knew exactly what she would say, too.

 

“Mathien, da'len, you are too brash. You must think before you so easily ignore your responsibilities.” she mimicked the Keeper's elderly voice as best as she could. As much as she loved and adored her Keeper, but the Creators knew how she could wield words like daggers.

 

Mathien's icey blue eyes caught sight of it, underneath the bed. Recklessly diving after it, she hit her head on the bed frame, but was still able to quickly grasp the object in her hand. Giddy from the adrenaline her anxiety had given her, Mathien resumed her position at her chair at the vanity in her room. Much like her room, the vanity was richly ornate, and hand selected by Josephine herself. It was a pure marble, with depictions of wolves chasing does relentlessly. Mathien recalled what she had said to her when she learned of the gift _as it was being delivered in her room._

 

“It was perfect when I saw it. I knew that you had to have it, and so I may have used _a little_ of the inquisition's money, but don't worry, an Antivan pays back her debts, Inquisitor.” At the time, Mathien had been in complete disarray, having human men come into her room at a late hour, carrying this vanity. Her only saving grace had been the thin sheet covering her muscled, naked frame at the time.

 

Come to think of it though, the only difference between then and now is less sheet and men and more nakedness. She looked down at her breasts, her nipples hard from the brisk mountain air. When she was younger, her and the other girls in the camp would look at each other shirtless, curious to see similar changes happening to each of their bodies. Mathien had been a late bloomer, but nonetheless grew into someone befitting the title of a woman. Her breasts had filled out around the time she received her vallaslin, and that day she was no longer da'len to her clan. She had become her Keeper's apprentice that day.

 

She remembered the day fondly. Mathien suddenly turned her attention towards the woman staring at her in the mirror. She was a vision, truly. Her vallaslin covered the upper left side of her face, with white, branch like lines making their way to her temple. Her waist length fiery hair a mess, and a complete contrast to her pale white skin, so similar to the snow on the peaks. She absentmindedly placed her rescued item on the marble and reached for the cream coloured brush sitting in front of her, beginning to deftly sort through the knots formed from last night's dreams. It wasn't until she'd lost a ball of hair that she actually began to take her time though.

 

She divided her hair evenly and braided the upper half of her hair, leaving it fall over the remaining hair, left untouched. It isn't until she's finished that she once again sees the reflection smile at her. Its then that a thought runs through her mind.

 

“What would Solas think of me?” An unflattering pink fills her cheeks, and she looks down at herself again, shyly. She felt that stupid feeling in her stomach again, like she did every time she thought of him. “He really wasn't that special,” she thought to herself ,” just another elf.” Nothing extraordinary from what she had grown up with. Yet... he might as well have been from a completely different world. He was always so wise, so kind, yet curt when he desired to be. He was in complete control of himself and he never seemed rushed. Calculative and calm, he was everything she was not, and she wanted to be a part of him.

 

“But such talk is childish.” She said aloud.

 

“Oh? And what talk might that be, darling?” Mathien smiled at the voice, and could have sworn that even his voice carried his charming smile.

 

“Nothing of importance, Tevinter.” She whipped her head around to see him, standing elegantly next to her staircase, handsomely clad in his buckles and leather. She giggled delicately, still quite aware of her nudity.

 

“My dear Inquisitor, I had thought we were beyond such silly titles. Because as it were,” he sauntered over to my bed and picked up my muslin shirt, rubbing the soft fabric between his thumb and forfinger, “I'm one of the few men who have now seen you in your morning glory. Quite the dream, might I add.” Mathien forgot any effort she had thought to give modesty and ran over to Dorian from her chair, playfully pulling the shirt from his grasp. She slipped it over her head swiftly, and matched Dorian's mirthful grin with her own. The shirt just barely reached beyond her hips, though she wouldn't have cared, knowing full well that Dorian was interested in more masculine parties than she.

 

“Come now darling, lets get you dressed. We have many groveling nobles to walk around and many more dragons to run away from, so its only reasonable that we should look our best, yes?” He grabbed her hand and twirled her around, as if they were dancing. He pushed her onto the bed and began to sort through the pile of clothes lying next to her.

 

“Tis truly a miracle that you have brought Thedas to it's knees, let alone with this wardrobe.” Mathien smiled, a hearty laugh escaping her lips.

 

“Well, Dorian, I do learn from the best.” She met eyes with Dorian and smiled mischievously, her teeth flashing brilliantly.

 

Dorian feigned a sense of astonishment and betrayal, his mouth agape and his hand gently placed over his chest. “Mathien, oh how you wound me, after all the services I provide for you.” He looked at her through heavy lashes, letting those hazel eyes grow bigger and more sympathetic with each passing second. It was actually Dorian, though, that ended the moment with a short bark of laughter.

 

Mathien, though making snide remarks about Dorian's choice of clothing, dressed herself in the attire that Dorian had chosen for her. He had insisted that today she should wear the only dress she owned, which wasn't really a dress to begin with. It was a forest green, and fell off both her shoulders, and she could still feel Dorian tightening the brown leather corset behind her.

 

“My dear, its the only thing keeping you from being an Antivan whore right now.” She laughed at the crass statement, but even with the corset, it still didn't exactly read modesty. Instead of her breasts showing altogether, they were rammed up towards her chin, though still quite a distance away. The 'dress' itself has slits on the lower half for her legs to not feel restricted, and she wore grey leggings to finish her appearance for the day. Dorian had picked out a pair of boots for her, but she declined, not wanting to feel too human. Dorian rolled his eyes at the remark, but smiled nonetheless.

 

She admired herself in the mirror, and despite her protesting, appreciated Dorian's unexpected help this morning.

 

“Andaren Atish'an, Lethallin.” Dorian didn't understand what she was saying, and she never cared to tell him of what she said, but the mutual understanding of the other's jovial attitude was enjoyable as ever. Mathien glided over to the vanity and picked up her troublesome memento from the Keeper, sliding it on her left middle finger. It was a simple piece of ironbark, carefully crafted by the clan's smith. _The ring of a Keeper_. Satisfied with her appearance for today, she spoke mildly. “Would you not escort a lady down to her guests?”

 

Mathien turned to see a Dorian elegantly bowing to her, a hand raised for her to hold. “I wouldn't dare dream of it, my friend.” She wrapped her fingers around his and he assumed his role as the man of the coupling, leading her towards the stairs, both of them effortlessly walking with grace down them. When they reach the bottom, they end the idle banter between them as he bows swiftly, winking up at her from his position.

 

“He won't be able to get enough of you, darling. He'll be caught like a rabbit in a snare for you.” He kisses your hand before he strides off, his long legs carrying him farther than you had anticipated as you called out to him.

 

“Who? Dorian, who are you talking about? Dorian?!” But Mathien might as well have been yelling at a wall, for Dorian seemed to have no intentions on turning back to her. She watched him walk through another door at the other side of Skyhold's throne room. Not knowing who he was talking about, her childish demeanor quickly returned, wishing to know the answers she was not privy to.

 

“Lethallan, I had not expected to see you so early.” With as little grace possible, Mathien turned towards the deep voice belonging to Solas, and was greeted with a rare smile of his.

 

“Oh, well, neither had I, to be honest.” She very nearly got the words out without stumbling over them. She was trying and failing to meet his eyes. She forced herself though, and warmly smiled at him. “Good morning, Solas.” It was increasingly difficult to breath with the damned corset on.

 

“Hmm... it is a good morning, isn't it?” He tilted his head, and took a small step closer to her. So small that if she weren't so focused on his every movement, she would've missed it.

 

“Walk with me, Lethallan?”

 

“Of course, Lethallin, I would be happy to do so.” Solas smiled at her and raised his hand for her to accept. What was it today with her and men? Its not as if she as commonly treated like a respectable lady every day or anything close to that. However, it took only a second for her to rest her hand in his, and her heart jumped at the warmth of his skin on hers. She just now took in the sight of him; so used to his normal attire of hose and his white sweater. No, today he wore a burly green sweater, with the pelt of a grey wolf covering a portion of his body. Mathien had to remember to breath and walk at the same time as she followed Solas into Skyhold's gardens. At this hour, no one was to be seen. Even the Inquisition's soldiers were gone, more than likely changing shifts. Other than the sound of each other's breathing and the sound of a gentle zephyr hitting the leaves of the garden's greenery, it was silent, and peaceful.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She tried not to look at him; she didn’t want to make it too obvious. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, and that was enough for her. Not really, but its not as if she was about to admit that. She could smell his earthy musk over the intoxicating perfume of the herbs surrounding them, and clung to it.

“Excuse me, Lethallan.” Solas politely let go of Mathien’s hand, and walked over to a dying bush. It was nearly black; twisted from the harsh winter in the mountains. It was not suited for this kind of treatment from the weather, it would seem. Solas dropped to his knees, then sat back, crisscrossing his legs, and began picking at the dried up leaves. What remained of them, at least.

“What herb is that?” She asked. Mathien had never been a healer, thus she never needed the knowledge of herbs and their many different uses. Without turning away from his task, “Valerion Root. It is very useful in helping patients of mine with the pain they are feeling at times.”

“How interesting.” She really didn’t catch a word of what he said, but became much more interested in Solas’s shoulders. She walked over to him, merely a short five paces away, and stood directly behind him.

“I have to agree with you, Lethallan.” He straightened his back, and met with Mathien’s knees instantly. She felt him tense for a moment before relaxing against her legs. “I used it on you when I first met you, though you were not awake for it. I do not imagine that you would remember it.” Mathien couldn’t see his face; his head facing downward. She could hear a tension within his voice.

“You were in so great a pain, you screamed in your sleep. It was only the Valerian that calmed you though. Nothing else would silence your screams and ease your suffering.” Mathien’s heart swelled within her chest. She reached down to rest her palms on either side of his shoulders, heavy with regret.

“But I’m no longer in pain, Solas. You saved me.” She was rewarded with his hand enclosing hers on his shoulder. They stood their for a few minutes, existing in each other’s presence. “Solas…” she whispered, almost inaudibly. He looked up at her then, his blue eyes matching hers in beauty. There was remorse in his expression, but also tranquility. Inside was an internal battle, and in that second she could see it. She was truly at a loss for words. Mathien descended to his eye level, and with her heart pounding in her chest, she wrapped her arms around him from behind. His breathing became deep as he leaned into her embrace, surprising them both. He found his place underneath her chin, in the crook of her neck. Nothing had been shared between them before, especially not like this. Conversations about the fade, elven lore, and magic, sure. Not the silence they both shared now, that spoke much more than they ever had to each other. Mathien gazed down down at his face, her eyes blurred by the things she was feeling.

His eyelids were closed, and a blank expression covered his face. Snapping his eyelids open at her, his eyes pierced right through her. "You're so beautiful, Solas." She could barely hear herself as she spoke. Solas's eyes grinned.

"I believe that it should be me saying such things, not you." Feeling the heat rise up in her cheeks, Mathien looked away. "You flatter me." "Perhaps...," with a sincerity in his voice, "but I only speak the truth."

His lips. All she could think about was his lips, his piercing gaze, the heaving of her chest; her breasts fighting against the restraint of her corset. Between the heat of their bodies and the smell of him filling her senses, she couldn't handle much more. They inched their heads together, both of them holding their breath, anticipating something much more. Touching foreheads now, Mathien closed her eyes and leaned into a— "Inquisitor, I'm so sorry to disturb you this morning, but I heard you were—."

In an instant, the moment dissipated and if it wasn't for Solas holding onto her, she would've fallen backwards onto the ground. Sir Cullen was still talking about the lack of provisions Skyhold currently had for its soldiers and the growing number of pilgrims, idly chewing at his bottom lip. It had not occurred to him yet to look up, being so used to informality when talking with Mathien. Solas stood up then, bringing Mathien with him in his strong arms.

Once more, they returned their hands to themselves, brushing their fingertips along the way. Mathien glanced at Solas out of the corner of her eye, and saw him smiling. Apparently, he had not been disturbed by the interruption, and was in fact quite amused.

"Does that sound correct, Inquisitor?" Cullen caught Mathien's attention once more, and she deigned to give him a warm smile, pink still in her cheeks. He had turned his eyes towards her, and forgot his manners for a moment, for his eyes grew wide and his mouth lay slightly agape. Mathien could already see the blush hitting his ears. It would seem that her outfit had an... affect.

"Of course Cullen, I trust your judgement." She met eyes with him and he glanced down, chuckling nervously. He reached behind his head and scratched it, which showed Mathien just how red Cullen's ears were, poor thing. "I'm glad, inquisitor." He could barely meet her gaze with those beautiful blue eyes of his. Cullen always did have an innocent and compelling aura around him.

A comforting yet tense silence ensued, leaving everyone on edge. The wind was still howling in the distance.

"Lethallan, we shall speak another time. Until then..." Solas gave a courteous bow to Mathien, ending the prolonged silence. Not knowing exactly what to say, she returned the bow silently. "Commander Cullen." He addressed Cullen politely and strode off gracefully. There had been no hint of what they just shared in his voice or on his face. Not long after hearing the wooden door shut quietly after Solas had left, Cullen spoke up.

"Is everything alright, Inquisitor?" He moved closer to her and had become notably more relaxed.

"Yes everything's fine, Cullen. Why do you ask?" Smooth Mathien. Even Cullen is going to see through that.

"Well, because I think I might have interrupted something. If I did, I'm so terribly sorry. I had no intention of doing so." "Hush, Cullen." She cut him off short. "You've done nothing wrong." Cullen took a deep breath and sighed.

"Why is it that I don't believe you?" "Probably because I always beat you at Wicked Grace." She laughed suddenly, it barely escaping her before she felt guilty for doing so. She needn't of bothered, for Cullen had joined in her laughter. Such a rich, deep laugh he had.

"Fair enough, Inquisitor, fair enough." He looked down at her, and she caught sight of something in his eye. It wasn't what she was accustomed to seeing in his eyes during these moments. Usually she could tell he appreciated her friendship, or was at least glad to hear her, but this was something else. Something a little bit deeper. "

Ah, Inquisitor, if you're not currently preoccupied with something else, might you join me in my office? I mean, I need some advice discussing Samson, and his plans for you – the Inquisition." He was tripping all over his words and it was obvious that he wanted to shut up, lest he embarrass himself any more.

"I'd enjoy that very much, Cullen." She brushed past him, her hair gently draped over her shoulders. "Shall we?" Cullen seemed out of breath, but recovered quickly with a smile and joined her while they walked to his study; there were many plans that had to be made and many battles to be fought. At least she had people like Cullen who put their all into it.


End file.
